The Shores of Aman
by Horsesrule
Summary: Here it is, folks. My first LOTR fic, written three years ago.


The Shores of Aman

Frodo stood on the deck of the ship gazing westward. Only two days before the white ship had sailed out from the Grey Havens and taken the Straight Road to the Uttermost West. The vast, deep green ocean rolled endlessly in every direction. It was evening of October 1st, and Frodo wondered if they'd ever make it to the Undying Lands.

The next morning after breakfast (not quite enough for a hobbit, but adequate) Frodo left the cabin and went to look for Gandalf. He found him standing at the prow of the ship and walked over to join him.

"Good morning, Frodo," said Gandalf. We should arrive at Tol Eressëa today of this wind holds up." And, noticing Frodo's troubled look, he asked Frodo if he was alright.

"I'm fine," he said. "It's just…well…"

"I know," said Gandalf. "But be comforted. You did the best anyone could do in your place—"

"But I didn't!" interrupted Frodo. "I could not…I could not cast away the Ring at the last. I've failed everyone…I was overcome in the end."

At that moment a shout was taken up: land had been spotted. As the ship drew near to the shores of Tol Eressëa, Frodo caught his first sight of Aman the Blessed. A tall, sheer mountain, taller than any he had ever seen or imagined, rose upon the western edge of the Pelóri, the Mountains of Defence that had been reared high and strong to protect Valinor from assault far back in the deeps of time. Below tall Taniquetil the shores of Eldamar sloped towards the sea, and beneath the Calacirya Elven Tirion lay shimmering in the morning sun.

As the ship drew near to haven Frodo could see that many Elves were gathered there. Elrond, Galadriel, Gandalf and Frodo disembarked from the ship with Círdan the Shipwright and the others of the Noldor that were with them. As they passed through the throng, many were reunited with kin from whom they had been long sundered.

"Artanis!" cried a golden-haired Elf, and Galadriel ran to embrace him. Thus did Galadriel, who had been parted from them for long ages, again meet her father and mother and her brother Finrod. Many meetings glad and joyous there were, and there was Elrond reunited with Celebrían his wife, she who had been grievously wounded by Orcs and had lost all pleasure in Middle-earth. And although Frodo received a hero's welcome, and many fair and courteous greetings from all those present—even Eönwë himself—he alone seemed ill at ease; in the midst of the mirth around him he alone was ailing.

"Olórin!" called Eönwë to Gandalf. " Nice job, saving Middle-earth and all. Good to see you back, though. You've certainly earned your retirement."

The sun was climbing to noon, and the press headed for the nearby city of Tirion. There was the glad day spent with feasts and merriment, but as evening drew on Frodo found a chance to slip unnoticed from the halls (Bilbo was promsing several Elves that they would be included in his book) and walk down towards the shore. It was a beautiful evening, the stars of Elbereth shone very brightly, but Frodo was plagued with doubts and guilt. Would all these great Elves be treating him thus if they knew the whole story? Would they not scorn and despise, rather than fete and honour him if they knew that he had not destroyed the Ring? Gollum had done that…loathsome, piteous Gollum…

Frodo's gaze was drawn to the Valacirca shining like jewels set in velvet, the great constellation set in the sky as a warning to Morgoth and a sign of the end of days.

"Quite nice, isn't it?" said a voice behind him. Frodo turned, startled from his reverie, amd saw walking towards him a tall lady, clad in blue and silver that billowed like clouds around her and a light seemed to shine from her face. She appeared even as one of the Valar, and Frodo was a bit nervous in her presence.

"Who are…? pardon me…I mean to say…"

"I am Varda," she said smiling, "and am also called Elbereth, queen of the stars, Gilthoniel, starkindler, and Elentári in the High Elven tongue. Do not be afraid of me, Frodo son of Drogo, for I see much from my halls on Taniquetil, and know much of what has befallen you."

"But then…" he faltered, "but then you surely know that I did not complete the task that was appointed to me."

"Peace! That too is known to me. Too long have you walked in the paths and shadows of despair," she said gently. "All parts played in the great Story that you yourself have spoken of are but small things to one who has watched it unfold from the first. Many sorrows and evils have been in the world, and also many victories and triumphs. The threat of Sauron the Maia we have long foreseen, and though it be thought a great evil that he survived the breaking of Thangorodrim and the downfall of Atalantë, that may be so, and yet not wholly evil, for Ilúvatar has a purpose in this as in all things. You did not fail, Frodo of the Shire. The One Ring was a thing far more evil and powerful than even Mithrandir imagined, for in it was the spirit of its maker. That you accepted the task at all was a marvel of itself, for no one else could or would do that. More would I tell you, Frodo, but alas! the night is wearing onand many may be seeking you. But tomorrow, maybe, shall we meet again. Namárië!

She turned and went swiftly from the seashore where they were standing, and Frodo watched her till her blue mantle became indistinguishable from the night shadows. He looked up to the starry sky again and saw Eärendil the evening star, and remembered the story he had heard long ago in Rivendell, the fair house of Elrond to which he had come mortally wounded by the Nazgûl blade. There he had remained for a while after the great council that had graven his fate, and there he had heard the tale of Beren and Lúthien, how they entered the horrible dungeons of Angband and stolen a Silmaril from Morgoth's very crown. And he heard tell of how the Silmaril came to Eärendil, and was set upon the prow of his ship to sail the pathless skies and shine as the morning and evening star, a sign of hope to those oppressed in Middle-earth.

As he walked back towards the lights and streets of Tirion, Frodo suddenly realized the portent of what had just happened. He had spoken with Elbererth, the very Elbereth who the Elves sang to in the woods of the Shire. He neared the gate. This land was unlike any he had ever been to in all his journeys, even though he had as yet seen little of it, he thought as he opened the gate and went inside. The very air he breathed brought refreshment and vigor. He noticed also that his wound had not pained him since he had arrived.

"Frodo?" asked Gandalf. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Frodo said, and this time he meant it.


End file.
